The only thing that troubles me slightly about that, Jack, is that, way back in 1992, when I was railroaded into picking up my out-of-tune six-quid Hohner Weekender in C to play Star Of The County Down, aged 41, I was utter shite. But the bloody folk club gave me the chance, and they clapped and cheered and I spent the next week hiding in my bedroom in case I bumped into anyone in Bude who'd either heard me in person or ridiculed me to his mates. That's how I reacted for years until I realised that I wasn't that bad after all (after a lot more woodshedding), and it was OK to keep my eyes open when I was playing, etc. But an awful lot of floor-spotters thought that the very fact that they were called up meant that they were shit-'ot. The folk club ethos, unfortunately, was incredibly non-judgemental, which led to many people acquiring the misguided feeling that they were dead good. But being even ever so slightly judgemental would have been so alienating that the club would have collapsed. A bit of a conundrum. So we endured a fair smattering of complete shite, though real jewels lurked in that crock of shite. As I said, the majority of the people in the back room had come to listen, not to play. They'd bought their expensivo pints on a Friday night yet were expected to keep quiet for long stretches. On a Friday night. Having paid mucho dough for their pints. I was playing, but even I thought that was a bit of a bugger. It isn't religion, is it. Is it??

What I'm saying is that damn near everyone who sticks their heads above the parapet, musically speaking, for the first few times may be utter shite, but that the folk club ethos, with its encouraging atmosphere and lack of judgementalism (is that a word?), is fertile ground for getting people going. Well, maybe. I haven't been in one for a long time. It's a bit like being a cradle Catholic. It got you going, gave you your moral compass, etc., but you couldn't abandon it fast enough once you grew up. Having cheerfully moved from a folk club in its demise to a really successful and long-lived pub session (in which purists were frowned on, I hasten to add), I found fun. Real fun. And, actually, just as much truly traditional music, if not more. I mean, what's life all about?